


three hundred fourty-nine

by tisapear



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Pre-Slash, Stanford Era, season/series 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:29:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24896965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisapear/pseuds/tisapear
Summary: "I was going to propose."
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 34





	three hundred fourty-nine

He buys it on impulse, honestly. Sees the thing through the display window, thinks, _Jess would like that one_ , then, _two years already, this is the next step, this is what normal people do._

Even with the freedom not to, he's a minimalist at heart, so it isn't all that hard spending the money right this instant. Not _too_ expensive, since Jess isn't that kinda girl, doesn't much care for the monetary worth as much as the emotional value, but enough that she'll know he cherishes her, doesn't feel _obligated_ to spoil her but _wants_ to. 

He's got half a mind to propose right that night, the supportive clerk's sly wink and well-wishes fresh in his mind, but then a picture of Dean's face flashes in his mind, lightning-sting and heartburn-ache, memories of Sam's kid-fingers caressing the silver ring on big brother's finger, wondering, _what if he gave it to me_ , not reflecting on the thought's origin back then and definitely not ready to examine it now.

Makes him halt, though, both mid-step on the sidewalk and going through with his out-of-the-blue plan. 

_Tomorrow_ , he thinks, intention soon turning into, _on the weekend_ , then, _next week_ , and, _in spring, her favorite season; after exams have finished, both of us less stressed; during summer vacation, more time to enjoy the engagement; on her birthday, the ideal gift—_

Excuses and lies so pitiful and weak, dad'd be disappointed, but they're enough that he can cling to them, hide behind their crumbling walls. 

Stares at the simple gold beauty every night, every morning, thinks about it every waking moment and tries to steel himself, not be a coward, imagines just pulling the box out while they're watching a movie, eating breakfast, studying in the library, while he feels like he could burst with his love for this gorgeous, perfect girl, but always remembers Dean, each and every single time, doesn't know _why_ , can't say why that stops him at all, makes him doubt everything and the world, his very being. Wouldn't his brother be proud that's he snagged such a beauty anyway? 

But. 

(But.) 

Keeps putting it off until it's already too late, big brother's reassuring weight pressing down on him, painfully familar, can't endure, longing bursting; whiskey-rough _easy there, tiger_ doing him in, clipping his heart, Dean claiming even more pieces of Sam as his own, like he doesn't have enough already. Hesitation in his veins becoming vaguely clear for the first time, an inkling taking root; makes his mind go faintly oh because _oh._

(God, no.) 

Less excuses and lies and full-blown denial, now, scrambling to pull his ignorance-is-bliss coocon back up. Suddenly so desperate and eager to go through with the proposal where before he couldn't find enough reasons to put it off. Has to make a stand before it's too late, has to prove it to himself, to the world, to Dean—he's normal, really, he _is_ , it's all he thought he ever wanted so it can't be true, must be mistaken. 

(Universe playing one giant joke and Sam Winchester is the punchline. Freak who wants his brother, body, mind and soul and still wouldn't have enough, his craving for _more_ never to be satisfied.)

He agrees, one last hunt, internally mapping out the perfect proposal like he shouldn't have a dozen and two on hand after almost a year, but his brother's right _here_ and he always makes Sam so goddamn weak, makes him wanna cave. He's got to do it while he still has the guts for it, because giving in to anything regarding Dean has always been so easy.

So of course two days later—Sam shaking apart at the seems with sheer _need_ , only able to get out of that car his heart still claims as home because he thinks his brother would kill him, despise him, never look at him again if he _knew_ —Jess dies. 

Her and his out, going up in flames. 

Later: Dean's there. Jess isn't. 

Later: Possibility for normal, gone. His feelings, not.

Later: Tears on his chin, soaking Dean's throat, big brother's arms tightly wrapped around Sam's pathetic little bug-form, sweet kisses scattered along his hairline while he gets gifted soft words, shushing noises, gravel-deep and honey-sweet, and he feels even worse because what if Jess' death was the cruelest of easy ways out—doesn't have to propose to her, doesn't have to explain why he didn't, _couldn't._

_"I was going to propose."_

Can't let Dean know that he isn't sure if he'd ever actually have gone through with it, because Dean may not understand but he might _know_ , just from looking at Sam, and losing Jess was terrible, horrible, gut-wrenching—but losing Dean would kill him.

So he just cries harder, tragedy bitter on his tongue.

**Author's Note:**

> They never _did_ tell us just how long Sam had been planning to propose......


End file.
